


These City Lights

by methequins



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Universe - College/University, Blowjobs, Cheating, Cigarettes, Closeted Character, Drug Use, M/M, Marijuana, Minor Dub-Con (because they are both very drunk), Minor John Egbert/Vriska Serket, Minor Other Ships, Minor Sollux Captor/Aradia Megido, Minor Sollux Captor/Feferi Peixes, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Polyamorous Character, Smoking, and also, pesterlogs
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-07-19
Updated: 2014-07-24
Packaged: 2018-02-09 11:50:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,778
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1981899
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/methequins/pseuds/methequins
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>I miss, I miss the way you sigh yourself to sleep.</i>
</p><p> </p><p>It was supposed to be a drunken one-night stand. You were never supposed to see him again. You don't do relationships, and you certainly don't fall in love, especially not with straight boys who have girlfriends and minimal interest in you, anyways. And yet, you can't stop thinking about his stupid blue eyes and too-loud laugh and the way his lips felt on yours. You can't stop wanting it again, and you don't know how to say no to him.</p><p>Your name is Dave Strider and you are completely, utterly screwed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

“Daaave,” Rose slurs. She wobbles unsteadily, so you slip an arm around her waist to hold her up. “Dave, I have to pee.”

 

The apartment is small and dark and loud, and you aren’t entirely sure how you let Rose talk you into this party in the first place. Especially considering you’re running on nerves and barely three hours of sleep, seeing as you had a huge project due earlier in the day that you practically had to pull an all-nighter for. Then again, it’s a Friday night and you’ll be damned if you’re staying in.

 

Besides, you have to keep an eye on Rose.

 

“Then go pee,” you tell her.

 

“I forgot where the bathroom is.” She giggles.

 

She takes after your mother in more regards than she’d like, most notably with her penchant for alcohol and accompanying ditziness when inebriated. Not that you could ever make these comparisons to her. She’d probably beat you up. Or at least destroy you psychologically.

 

She wasn’t like this in high school, as far as you know. But ever since she started college this year she’s gotten a little wild. But that’s part of the college experience for most, and you are by no means an exception – though you tend to prefer smoke of the herbal variety over alcohol.

 

You lead her to the bathroom, the location of which you’ve memorized after being dragged there approximately every five seconds by Rose. It is unoccupied, fortunately, and she quickly disappears inside. You lean against the wall to wait.

 

Alcohol is swimming through your veins, though not nearly as much as Rose. Still, it’s enough to make the world seem warm and a little fuzzy, and you long for some sort of physical contact. Maybe you’ll find someone to take you home tonight. Though in all likelihood you’ll end up crashing on Rose’s floor or in her bed.

 

Someone collides with you and you’re soaked. You jump back and look up to snap at the idiot who just spilled their drink all down your front only to find your eyes glued to the bluest you’ve ever seen.

 

“Shit, I’m so drunk, I’m so sorry!” the guy says. He is taller than you and has dark hair that looks like it’s never seen a brush and teeth that are in desperate need of braces.

 

He is also absolutely, unbelievably gorgeous.

 

“It’s okay,” you say softly, still kind of stunned.

 

“No, really, I am so fucking sorry. For real. Come on, let me help you dry off.” He takes your hand and starts guiding you away.

 

“No, it’s fine, really, my sister–“

 

Just then Rose comes bursting out of the bathroom.

 

“John!” she squeals and throws her arms around the guy.

 

He laughs and hugs her back. “Hey, Rose.”

 

“I see you were acquainting yourself with my brother,” she purrs, black-painted lips curling into a wicked smile.

 

“Yeah, his drink acquainted itself with my shirt real nice,” you snark. John cringes and apologizes again.

 

“I didn’t know you had a brother,” John says to Rose, but he’s looking at you. He holds out a hand and beams. Your stomach does a flip. “Nice to meet you! I’m John Egbert.”

 

Christ, that is one of the most unfortunate last names you’ve ever heard. You take his hand and give it a firm shake. “Dave Strider.”

 

“Are you sure you don’t want me to help you dry off?”

 

“Don’t worry about it.”

 

You and Rose go with him to get fresh drinks. He teases you for still being relatively sober so you chug yours and start in on another, which ends up being an absolutely horrible idea because an hour later you’re swaying next to him watching Rose dance with some girl and you can’t feel your feet.

 

“If you’re Rose’s brother why do you have a different last name?” he asks you.

 

Fuck. That’s a hard thing to get into when your brain isn’t working. Luckily, your mouth runs on its own, your Southern drawl coming out full-force as it tends to when you’re wasted. “It’s my dad’s. Our parents split up when we were real little. Mom took Rose up here but me an’ my brother stayed down in Texas with our daddy.”

 

“Oh.” He takes a sip of the drink in his hand. “Weird.”

 

You hum in agreement. “So how d’you know my baby sister, anyways?”

 

“Oh! She lives down the hall from me in the dorms. It’s weird she never mentioned you. She was one of my first friends here.”

 

“Yeah, well, she never mentioned you either. Though I think I can see why.”

 

“Why?”

 

“You’re cute and she doesn’t like me fucking her friends.”

 

The words slip out of your lips without thought, and you’re too drunk to be embarrassed, even when he laughs a bit too loud.

 

“Geez, Dave! I am so not cute, shut up. If anyone’s the cute one here it’s you.”

 

Is he hitting on you? Holy shit he’s hitting on you. Maybe you won’t end up on Rose’s floor tonight after all. Speaking of Rose, she is nowhere to be seen. She’ll find you when she wants to leave. Probably.

 

You give him your most charming drunken grin. “Why, Mr. Egbert, you sure know how to make a lady swoon,” you drawl.

 

He laughs and smacks your arm. “Oh my god shut up you are so dumb.”

 

“But at least I’m cute.” You smirk and raise an eyebrow.

 

“Yeah, yeah.”

 

John somehow talks you into doing a shot with him – you quickly discover not only is he a horrible influence, you find it impossible to say no to that charming, genuine smile. It hits you like a ton of bricks and you’re honestly not sure how you’re still standing after that. You’ve always been a bit of a lightweight, one of the reasons you typically avoid alcohol, and yet you’re trying to keep up with John’s clearly stronger tolerance anyways.

 

Admittedly you’re just trying to impress him.

 

The next thing you know you’re outside on a balcony. Shit, you didn’t even know this place had a balcony. Your fingers struggle with a lighter, a cigarette hanging out of your mouth. Your dexterity is hardly at its peak and you can’t seem to get the damn thing to catch.

 

You only really smoke cigarettes when you’re drunk or stressed, and at the moment you’re craving the ashy smoke scorching its way into your lungs more than anything.

 

“Let me,” John says, and takes the lighter from your hands. Your fingers buzz where his brushed yours and you want to grab his hand and never let go. The lighter sparks to life with ease in his hands, and you lean into the flame and inhale until the tip of your cigarette glows.

 

“Thanks,” you mumble around it, watching him from behind your shades. You take a long drag and let it out slow. “You want one?”

 

“Nah, I’m all set. I don’t smoke.”

 

“Smart kid.”

 

You take the lighter back and shove it into your pocket. You’re in your own little bubble, like all that exists is you and him. Everything outside of that is swimming, and you tilt your head back and breathe smoke to the sky, suddenly longing for your mom’s house upstate where the stars glow every night.

 

“Dave,” he says. You turn to him and raise an eyebrow. He shakes his head as if clearing it, then lets out a laugh that sounds on the edge of nervous. “Nothing, sorry. You just look really nice right now. Yknow, peaceful.”

 

You lean your shoulder against his and keep sucking down smoke until the cigarette is down to the filter in your fingers.

 

The party is too loud once you go back inside and you’re sick of it. Your head is spinning and part of you just wants to collapse in some sort of a bed and pass the fuck out. John doesn’t seem into it anymore, either, and you’re not sure who suggests it but you head out not long after. The city noises seem muffled compared to your laughter as he goes into some elaborate, stupid joke that you’d probably find idiotic if you were sober.

 

“You don’t have to walk back with me,” he says. “I’m sure I could make it fine on my own.”

 

“I was gonna sleep over Rose’s room tonight anyways. It’s closer to here than my school.”

 

“Don’t you go to NYU, too?”

 

“No, SVA. I just come up here to hang out with Rose once in a while.” You shove your hands in your pockets, and your shoulder bumps his as you continue unsteadily down the sidewalk. “I have no clue where she fucked off to though.”

 

“Well, you could always hang out in my room till she shows up!” You look at him and his face goes red, as if realizing what he’s asked. “I mean. If you want. Like I said before I live right down the hall from her.”

 

“Sounds like a date,” you say, trying to sound smooth and failing as you trip over your own feet. Goddamnit why did you let him talk you into getting so drunk. He laughs loudly and you can’t help but grin at him.

 

“Careful,” he teases and slips an arm around your waist, presumably to keep you from falling over. It feels so unbelievably nice that you can’t help but lean into his embrace, wanting desperately to just grab him and kiss him right there.

 

He starts rambling about Washington, which is apparently where he’s from (at least you think that’s what he said, it’s a little hard to focus at the time being). “I mean, when I went back, it just felt so different, you know? It was a lot smaller. Or maybe I was bigger. It was weird seeing all the places I used to go when I was younger and it almost felt like I didn’t belong there anymore.”

 

“I know. I feel like that whenever I go home. But I guess it’s different for me because home isn’t Texas anymore.”

 

“Why not?”

 

“Dad died a couple years back so I moved in with mom and Rose to finish out high school.”

 

“Do you miss it?”

 

“Yeah. I still go visit sometimes, my brother’s living down there now. He was in college then so he never moved up north with me.”

 

You think about the blazing heat and a city so different from the one you’re in now, an apartment on the top floor with crows on the fire escape and swords in the fridge, and you frown. You miss the smell of photography chemicals every time you went into the bathroom and the sound of Dirk tinkering away at his robots in the other room. The big, mostly-empty house full of wizards and alcohol and passive-aggressive notes that you now call home just isn’t the same.

 

You’re drawn out of your thoughts when you practically crash into John. He’s watching your face and has pulled you closer while you were mentally in Texas.

 

“I don’t like change either,” he tells you. You smile at him but there’s nothing to say.

 

You follow him into the dorm and up the elevator after you sign in as a visitor. Sure enough, he pushes the familiar button for the seventh floor, the same one Rose lives on. He brushes past her door and pauses at one further down the hall, fumbling with his keys. Your stomach is doing flips because a cute boy invited you to his room and you have no idea what is going to happen next. If anything is going to happen next. Because maybe he is just nice and drunk and maybe you’re reading too much into things and–

 

He grabs your hand and drags you inside and as soon as the door has shut behind you he pushes you into it and kisses you hard.

 

Oh god. Oh god this is really happening.

 

It’s been kind of a while since you had sex with anyone, and you’re suddenly nervous about the whole thing. Particularly since you’re not exactly on your game at the moment, seeing as your head is still swimming with alcohol. But your lips move against his in a desperate sort of way, anyways, because you want this, really fucking badly.

 

You want him really fucking badly.

 

“You sure I can’t help you out of that wet shirt?” he murmurs in your ear, and your dick twitches in your pants. Your shirt’s really only damp by now, but you let him lift it off over your head anyways. He kisses you again and your arms are around his neck and his tongue is in your mouth. His hands are warm on your bare chest, and they slide down your sides to rest on your hips and pull you closer. Your mind is a happy, fuzzy blank, and you’re not sure if it’s because you’re still drunk or too much blood is rushing to your nether regions.

 

He pulls away and takes your hand, laughing at the whine that escapes your throat. “C’mere,” he says, and pulls you after him until you both collapse onto one of the two beds in the room. You assume – hope – that it’s his.

 

You waste no time kissing him again, your fingers moving to tangle in his hair. He kisses you slow and controlled, and you can tell he’s used to being the one in charge, which is just fine by you. You crawl into his lap and wrap your legs around his waist.

His hands skate down your back to the top of your jeans, where they hesitate a moment before continuing their descent to grope your ass.

 

The way his lips slide against yours is somewhat messy, but you can’t bring yourself to care. Especially not when he pulls away for a moment and your eyes connect with his and that bright blue makes your breath catch in your throat. He grins and kisses down your neck, paying particular attention to one spot that he bites and sucks at until there’s sure to be a bruise there the next day. You groan quietly.

 

Apparently whiskey dick is not a thing that you need to worry about at the moment because you’re painfully hard in your jeans. God, you want him to fuck you, you want to suck him off, you want _something_ , because this is great but you need more.

 

The words spill out of your mouth before you even realize they’re coming and you’re begging him in a reedy voice please please please let me touch you I want you so bad I need you. He laughs softly. “Okay,” he says.

 

Your fingers waste no time finding the fly of his jeans, though you fumble with the button and zipper just as badly as you did your lighter earlier. He presses into the glancing brushes of your fingers as you work at it, and finally you get it open. You kiss and bite down his neck, every bit of you desperate for every bit of him. Your fingers dip below the waistband of his boxers and the quiet gasp that passes his lips is so beautiful that you grin against his neck and wrap your hand around him, determined to draw more sounds that pretty. You’re rewarded with a hitch of breath and a mumble of “Fuck, Dave.”

 

You give him a few firm strokes as you press slow, open-mouthed kisses to his collarbone. Soon enough he’s sufficiently hard and arching into your hand, so you decide to stop being such a fucking tease and get the real show on the road.

 

His jeans are looser around his hips than any of yours ever seem to be, and it isn’t difficult to push them down to his knees until he gets the hint and kicks them off. You glance at the tent in his boxers and holy shit is he seriously wearing Ghostbusters boxers what a fucking dweeb. But now is not the time to ponder that so you make quick work of those too and it isn’t long before you’re staring his dick in the face.

 

It’s a pretty average-looking dick, all things considered – not too long but a bit on the thick side, which is where it really counts, anyways. He’s circumcised and leaning a bit to the left, and there’s a bead of pre-come pooling at the tip. You lean down and lick it off and the bitter taste is worth it for the whine it draws from his chest. You look up at him and grin. He smiles back and winds his fingers into your hair, stroking it as if to encourage you. Not that you need much encouragement right now, anyways.

 

You’ve always considered yourself a prime giver of blowjobs. You like to make a bit of a show out of it, and though you’re drunk and a little out of practice, the familiar eagerness to please your partner fills your chest as you part your lips and suck his head into your mouth. He lets out a groan and you look up at him again, your eyes wide over the tops of your shades, but he isn’t looking at you anymore, his head tilted back into the bed and his eyes shut. His hips twitch and you can tell it’s taking all his willpower not to thrust up into the warm wetness of your mouth.

 

You swallow around him and take him in a little further, one of your hands moving to wrap around the base. You carefully go down on him until you feel him hit the back of your throat, your tongue licking at anything it can reach. You hollow your cheeks and suck and he lets out a strangled gasp that’s music to your ears.

 

Unfortunately you can’t stay like that for long because you kind of can’t really breathe all that well and also it’s making your jaw throb, so you pull off with a wet _pop_. He shudders, probably from the feeling of the air hitting his now-wet dick, and you shoot him another brief grin before parting your lips again. This time you bob your head shallowly, your hand working what you can’t quite reach, and he groans and whines at all the right moments.

 

“Fuck, Da – aah,” he stutters, and he loses control for a second, thrusting his hips up into your mouth. You pull off quickly, gagging and coughing, and he sits up, a look of horror on his face. “Oh shit I’m so sorry! I didn’t – oh my god are you okay?”

 

“Fine.” You cough one more time before giving him a tiny smile. He smiles back nervously, and you lean in and press a chaste kiss to his lips. “Just watch yourself there, Egbert.”

 

He nods. “I will. Shit, I’m really sorry.”

 

You forgive him by leaning back down and licking a long line up his dick. He lets out a shuddery exhale and you can feel his legs shaking on either side of you. He must be close. The realization sets you at your task with renewed fervor, wanting to tip him over the edge. He gasps sharply as you bob your head faster, and he’s tugging at your hair now. The noises he’s making remind you of the ache between your own legs, and you automatically start grinding against the bed a little, but it barely provides any of the friction you’re looking for.

 

John starts pulling at your hair urgently. “Fuck, Dave, I-I can’t,” he warns you. It deters you not at all and a moment later he’s clawing at your scalp as hot liquid hits the back of your throat and you swallow around him as he moans, and you keep going till he’s shaking and begging you to stop in a reedy voice.

 

When you pull off a bit of jizz dribbles down your chin and you wipe it off with the back of your hand as you sit up. His face is bright red and his eyes are glassy.

 

“Holy shit,” he says, and lets out a breathy laugh. You smile fondly back at him and imprint this to memory as best you can because in that moment he is so precious to you that you want to hold onto this forever.

 

You want to kiss him, so you do, even though your mouth still tastes bitter and soapy from his come. He kisses you back anyways, slowly as he rides his cloud of post-orgasmic bliss. He lays back and pulls you onto his chest and keeps kissing you, and the way his tongue gently probes your mouth does nothing to diminish the hardness of your own dick still trapped inside your jeans. But, distracting as it is, you don’t want to ruin the moment, so you do your best to ignore it even as it presses into his hip and just keep kissing him. His hands run soft strokes up and down your bare back, tracing the knobs of your spine.

 

He carefully rolls you over onto your back so he can hover over you, one hand tracing down your stomach, his fingertips pausing to toy with the line of hair that extends from your belly button and disappears into the top of your jeans, and your breath goes shallow with anticipation.

 

He looks up at you, and it’s like he’s silently asking for permission, so you give him a slight nod and he smiles. His hand palms at the front of your jeans and you let out a shuddery breath you hadn’t realized you’d been holding. He fumbles with the zipper and hesitates once your pants are open, studying your red boxer-briefs almost like he’s scared to touch you.

 

“Please,” you whine breathlessly, and finally he shoves your underwear down just enough for your dick to spring free, and you sigh gratefully at the lack of confinement.

 

He wraps his hand around you carefully and the anticipation is seriously killing you. You press into his hand a little without even meaning to, and you think he takes the hint because he begins stroking you, though it’s far more slowly than you’d like. You let out a frustrated whine, your eyelids fluttering, and he laughs at you and picks up the pace.

 

Finally, you’re getting somewhere here. You wrap your arms around his neck and pull him into a kiss, thrusting a little to match the somewhat uncertain strokes of his hand. He runs a thumb over your tip which makes you choke a gasp into his mouth, so he does it again, this time drawing a quiet groan from you. He kisses down your neck and picks up the pace, and before you know it you’re reduced to a pool of whimpering, shaking nerves. You’re already close, which is pretty pathetic seeing as he hasn’t done anything but jerk you off and even that has been pretty awkward on his end.

 

He bites down hard on your neck and you come with a strangled cry, your back arching clear off the bed.

 

He kisses you, softly and all over – your jaw, your cheeks, your chin, your eyelids, your forehead, your nose, your lips. You kiss him back lazily, still coming down from your high. After a few long minutes of this he pulls away and makes a face at the jizz on his hand. He takes his shirt off and mops it up with it, as well as the pool that’s settled on your stomach, which you’re thankful for. He pulls his boxers back on and you adjust yours as well, then you curl up in his arms and promptly pass the fuck out.


	2. Chapter 2

When you wake up, early morning sunlight is streaming through the window and you’re in Rose’s bed with no recollection of how you got there. Your mouth is dry and your head is pounding. You groan and roll over. Rose stumbles into the room, wiping her mouth on the back of her hand. She looks as awful as you feel. She collapses onto the bed beside you and regards you with cool purple eyes.

 

“When did you get here?” she asks softly. You shrug. “Last I remember, you’d disappeared off with John.”

 

Right. John. Memories flood back to you and the slight ache of your jaw is explained. But when did you make the move from his bed to Rose’s? “Yeah, well, last I remember you’d straight-up disappeared.”

 

“Well, I don’t think anything I got up to was nearly as fun as your night.” She eyes your neck smirks. You clap a hand over the hickeys you’re sure are there. “Who’s the lucky lady or gentleman?”

 

“I should think that would be obvious, sister dear.”

 

She squints. Her eyeliner is smudged and she isn’t wearing any lipstick and it makes her look very tired and young. Your heart aches to see her like this sometimes, and you want to protect her, even though she’s only a year younger than you and you can hardly protect yourself half the time. “No,” she says with a small frown. “John wouldn’t.”

 

“Well, he did. He _really_ did.” You waggle your eyebrows. She smacks your arm.

 

“This is troubling,” she says.

 

“How come? It was just a drunken one-night stand. I doubt it’ll affect your friendship any.”

 

“Well, for one, I never took John to be an unfaithful partner. But I suppose alcohol does things to people.”

 

Your stomach drops when you hear that. You are many bad things but an enabler of cheating you are not. “What? Shit, he has a boyfriend?”

 

“A girlfriend, actually. As it were, he has always claimed heterosexuality, so this takes me quite by surprise.”

 

It takes you quite by surprise, too. John never mentioned anything about a girlfriend as far as you can remember. And he certainly didn’t seem heterosexual last night. But suddenly his reluctance to touch you and the somewhat awkward way he jerked you off make a lot more sense, if he’d never been with a dude before.

 

You feel like the scum of the earth, even though you know it isn’t really your fault. You huff and roll onto your back.

 

“Hey,” Rose says, and props herself up on one arm to frown at you. You catch a whiff of vomit masked with toothpaste on her breath, and you deduce she was in the bathroom puking when you woke up. “You do know you aren’t to blame for this mishap, right? I mean, I never thought John would do such a thing, but you didn’t know. You had no way of knowing. And now that you do know, you can ensure id doesn’t happen again.”

 

You grunt in agreement, but the thought dismays you far more than it should.

 

The next time you wake it’s at the far more reasonable time of 10:30. Rose’s head is using your chest as a pillow, and she’s still sound asleep. You shift carefully to avoid waking her and grope for your shades on her nightstand. You flick them open and shove them onto your face, managing to only poke yourself in the eye once in the process.

 

“Good morning, sunshine!” a voice chirps. You turn your head to see Rose’s roommate beaming at you from the other (cleaner) side of the room. You have no idea how she could be so cheery right now because you know for a fact she went out last night, too.

 

“Hey,” you say. Your voice cracks. You clear your throat and try again. “Did you let me in last night?”

 

“Sort of! I ran into John Egbert in the hallway. He was carrying you and told me you passed out in his room. So I let him bring you in here. You didn’t even budge! It was pretty funny.”

 

You carefully shift Rose off you so you can sit up and run a hand through your hair. “Yeah, I was pretty fuckin’ trashed. That boy’s a bad influence.”

 

“Really?” Feferi seems genuinely surprised. “I mean, I don’t know him very well, but he always seemed so nice to me!”

 

“That’s his secret. He lures you in with his stupid innocent grin and before you know it he’s gotten you so drunk you can hardly stand straight.” You crawl out of Rose’s bed. She mumbles something and rolls over.

 

Feferi just raises one perfectly-shaped eyebrow. You look away. You’re totally not bitter or anything. Not at all.

 

You start pawing through Rose’s drawers, which are surprisingly full considering the sheer volume of clothes littering the floor and strewn across her desk chair. You always thought you were messy, but your sister is just as bad, if not worse. She claims disorder and chaos is par of the course for creative minds. You think she’s full of shit. Finally, you find what you’re looking for – a shirt you left here the last time you slept over. You sniff it. It smells clean, so you swap out the one you’re wearing for that one and begin the hunt for your shoes and coat.

 

“So are you heading back to your dorm now?” Feferi is lounging on her bed, painting her toenails a blinding shade of purplish-pink.

 

“That was the plan.”

 

She grabs a cell phone off her bedside table that isn’t nearly glittery enough to be her own. “Could you give this to Sollux? He left it at my apartment last night.”

 

Feferi is a trust fund baby, born and raised on the Upper East Side. Even though she could theoretically and easily commute to school from home, she chose to live in the dorms for the full college experience or some shit. Then again, with money as no object, you can’t really blame her for wanting to get away from her family. You think you’d go crazy if you were still living with your mom. Or, god forbid, your brother.

 

“Sure,” you say and slip the phone into your pocket. Of course, this will mean actually talking to Sollux, which is an experience you tend to avoid as much as humanly possible. But you like Feferi so you’ll suck it up. “Guess I’ll see you. Do me a favor and make sure Rose doesn’t choke on her own vomit or anything.”

 

“Sure thing! Bye, Dave!”

 

Once in the hall you cast a glance towards the closed door down the hall that has John’s name on it, but you force yourself to turn away quickly.

 

It’s fucking freezing outside. Despite how many winters you’ve spent up north by now, your body has never quite gotten used to the cold. It feels like it’s going to snow. You grumble and wrap your arms tighter around yourself. You’re hungover, in a shit mood, and you kind of just want to sleep for the rest of the day. You think you might just do that when you get back to your room.

 

Your dorm isn’t far from Rose’s – just enough that you can’t feel your fingers by the time you get there. You trudge up the stairs, ignoring the elevator as usual. You’ve always had an aversion to them for some reason. The stairs are honestly faster, anyways.

 

You hear giggling as you open the door to your room and you groan. “Hey asshole,” you greet your roommate. “You didn’t tell me she was coming this weekend.”

 

“It was kind of a last-minute thing,” Sollux lisps. “Besides, I don’t see how it’s any of your fucking business.” His face is covered in red lipstick. You wonder if he hasn’t noticed or just doesn’t care.

 

His girlfriend, at least, has the decency to look embarrassed. “Nice to see you, Dave.”

 

“Hey Aradia, think you could do me a favor and remind this dickwad that this is my room, too? Christ, and I thought living with my brother was bad.”

 

Sollux just flips you off. You toss his cell phone at him.

 

“You left it at your other girlfriend’s house last night.”

 

“Thanks, fuckface.” He hardly looks up from his laptop. Aradia leans over to look and giggles again. You catch a glimpse of the screen and see he’s animating ghosts terrorizing a little cartoon version of some guy Sollux hates.

 

Sometimes you wonder how you couldn’t land anyone (except for straight boys with girlfriends, apparently) and this douchebag could manage having a happy, polyamorous relationship with two gorgeous girls. It so wasn’t fair. Sometimes you really wish you had what he has. Minus the polyamory part because honestly that’s just not for you. You’re cool with sleeping around and shit, but if you’re gonna do the whole relationship thing you think you’d like to stick to one person.

 

You’ve been in exactly one relationship in your entire life. Her name was Terezi and you dated her your freshman year of high school. She was kind of crazy, but in a cool sort of way, and she was fun. At the time you thought you loved her. You know now that you work way better as friends. You broke up when you made the move from Texas to New York, but you still talk online a lot.

 

You’re pretty sure with all the talking and giggling Sollux and Aradia are doing you’re not going to be able to fall asleep anytime soon. You should really work on homework. You collapse onto your bed with your laptop to fuck around on the internet instead.

 

You have a new friend request on Facebook. It’s from John.

 

You click his profile and poke around. It’s pretty much what you expected – lots of random photos, the occasional status update. A lot of posts from this one guy named Karkat who must have broken his capslock key or something, Jesus.

 

There are photos from winter break about a month back, of him and some blonde girl sitting in front of a fireplace wearing the most heinous Christmas sweaters you’ve ever seen in your goddamn life. The girl tagged in the photo is the one his profile listed him as “in a relationship” with. You frown at her.

 

She’s pretty, in a harsh sort of way, with a smile that looks like she could eat you whole. Her hair is dip-dyed blue at the tips, and she’s got an angular nose that supports a pair of large wire-rimmed glasses.

 

You hate her immediately. You don’t know why.

 

But it won’t do any good despising a girl you’ve never even met for reasons you can’t quite grasp. So you accept his friend request and quickly log off.


End file.
